


Nocturne

by hafital



Category: Dracula: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-26
Updated: 2006-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house lights had dropped to half when Lucard spotted Sophie Metternich in the opera box across from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: nusaiba in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge. Thank you to shalott and Unovis for being such fabulous betas. All remaining mistakes are mine.

***

 

The house lights had dropped to half when Lucard spotted Sophie Metternich in the opera box across from him, her eyes glowing, cheeks flushed pink and delicate. She wore her hair up, her neck pale and circled by a simple string of pearls. He smiled, leaning in, and even though they were on opposite sides of the opera house he could smell her perfume: the heady scent of a young, ripe woman mixed with crushed flowers. He could almost taste her pulse. She had been absent for a number of years studying abroad, only recently returned. Lucard withdrew into the shadows, watching her excitement mount as the house darkened and the curtain lifted. Ah, Sophie, sweet Sophie.

A costumed Prince entered the stage -- some pompous buffoon with a round belly, bad breath, and a terrible dye job, aspiring to be one of the great tenors. The Prince fell in love with a cold-hearted Princess, also attired in an equally appalling wig and outfit. Tiresome, really, but what choice did one have with the limited entertainment available in Vianden. That, and Lucard needed new servants. One or two of the patrons in the audience would do nicely. Lucard kept an eye on Sophie while scouting the crowd with his not inconsiderable vampire senses tuned to the constant thrum of blood pumping all around him.

The pompous buffoon sang the great aria of Turandot and the crowd clapped politely. Lucard watched Sophie whisper with animation to the man at her side. Lucard identified him as Lewis Elmhurst, a boorish, uncouth youth who always managed to inveigle his way across Lucard's path. He instantly disapproved. No, no, no, the man was far too common for a woman of Sophie's quality. She might as well have chosen that useless nephew of Helsing's, the elder boy, Chris.

During intermission Lucard drifted through the crowds, nodding and shaking hands with all the sycophants that vied for his attention. He marked a tall, broad shouldered man and the slender female at his side: butler and housekeeper. Perfect. Lucard liked it when they came already paired; it made them easier to manipulate.

"Alexander Lucard, I presume?" Lucard turned and saw Elmhurst approaching, waving like they were old friends, an uneasy Sophie dragging behind him. Even better. He especially liked it when his quarry came to him instead of the other way around. "Lewis Elmhurst, Elmhurst Industries." Elmhurst held out his hand, which Lucard did not take. "I left you several messages, Mr. Lucard, asking for a meeting. I've got the best proposition in town, and I can make it worth your while. I got lots of ideas I think you'll like, that'll make you plenty of money." Elmhurst grinned and winked, nudging Lucard with his elbow. Lucard stared at him levelly, remaining perfectly still until Elmhurst paled and retreated.

"I already have plenty of money," said Lucard, dusting his suit, letting a calculating smile cross his face. "I received your messages, Mr. Elmhurst. I suppose my silence wasn't answer enough. I do not do business with small companies that have nothing to offer. Please do not bother me again." He watched the eager, desperate look on Elmhurst's face crumble before turning to Sophie. "Sophie Metternich, we meet again."

"You two know each other?" Elmhurst looked from Sophie to Lucard.

"Didn't she tell you? We're old friends, Sophie and I." Lucard held out his hand. She only hesitated for a moment before giving him hers, letting him bring it up to his lips. He could smell her sweet blood, wishing he could turn her hand over and bite the inside of her wrist. "Good to see you, my dear," he said, not letting her hand go, pulling her slightly away from Elmhurst. "Enjoying the evening? I'm afraid Divoncenzi lacks the charisma of the great tenors you must have become accustomed to in your travels."

"I think Master Divoncenzi is amazing." She lifted her chin in defiance, pulling her hand away. He could see her refrain from rubbing her skin where he'd kissed her, and he hid his delight.

"Do you? Well, then, I stand corrected. Maybe later you'll do me the honor of discussing it further, and we can... catch up, on old times. Sophie, Elmhurst, if you will excuse me." He departed, not without first getting a tantalizing taste of Sophie's discomfort.

***

 

The night air felt crisp against his heated skin, flushed with the warmth of fresh blood. Lucard sent his two new servants shuffling off to the castle with orders to clean the catacombs - it was spring after all. The intermission bell rang, but he didn't go back inside, hearing voices rising nearby. He moved quietly over the flagstones, spying Sophie and the callous young Elmhurst arguing under a street lamp.

"Let go of me, Lewis. I won't do it. You don't know Lucard. You don't know what he really is." Elmhurst held her wrist tightly. Sophie struggled against him, her soft contralto echoing off the old stones of the opera house.

"I know he's the key to everything, and that's all I need to know," said Elmhurst, his face red and blotched from anger. "For days now all I've talked about is Lucard and how important this is to me, and not once did you mention that you knew him. I only agreed to come to this thing tonight because I thought Lucard might be here -- and he is here and you won't even help."

"I want to go home." Sophie yanked her arm, but Elmhurst held on.

"Not until you go back to Lucard and ask him to meet with me."

Sophie stomped on his foot. Elmhurst muffled a cry of pain, releasing her, then straightened and slapped Sophie across the face with the back of his hand. Before Lucard could even notice if she fell or if she was hurt, he flew with vampire speed, grabbing Elmhurst by his collar and lifting him into the air, the heated rush of his vampire strength coming over him: the sharpness of his vision, the bite of his teeth emerging.

"You should listen to the lady, Elmhurst, if you know what's best." Lucard reveled in the panic in Elmhurst's eyes and the stench of his fear before lowering him, baring his neck and prepared to bite.

"Wait, Lucard, don't kill him." Sophie's voice was soft, but it stopped him, penetrating through the fog of the kill.

Lucard turned to Sophie. "You can't be serious."

"He's nothing. Let him go." Her blue eyes were wide, but otherwise she seemed calm, even though she held her cheek with one hand.

"I agree, he's nothing. Sophie, you disappoint me. I thought you had better taste." She patted her dress, looking for something. For a cross, he assumed, only no cross appeared. Lucard laughed. "Not a very convenient accessory, is it? Tell me, Sophie, what will you offer me in exchange for his life?"

She looked from Elmhurst to Lucard. "I'll go with you, if you let him go."

Lucard raised an eyebrow. Interesting, but he couldn't fathom Sophie actually caring for such a pathetic excuse for a boy. Besides, he always did his research. He threw Elmhurst aside, flinging him far, only waiting for the satisfying crack of bones before speaking. "Deal."

She turned and fled but Lucard moved too fast for her, catching her in his arms. He held her, not letting her go when she squealed and gave him such a charming wild-eyed look. "Careful, Sophie. You'll make me think you're not a woman of your word."

She struggled against his grip, to no effect. "You're horrid, you know that."

"Oh, why stop at horrid? Why not arrogant, cold-hearted, and evil, as well? Tell me, Sophie, what do you see in a boy like Elmhurst? Would it have anything to do with the fact that Elmhurst is actually a vampire hunter?" Lucard was pleased to see Sophie stop fighting him, her forehead creasing as her mouth fell open and she stared at him with astonishment. He brought her close, grazing his lips across the skin of her neck. She cringed and drew back. "Ah, tricky little Sophie. How I have missed you. Did you think I wouldn't know the son of the late Carolyn Elmhurst, famous vampire hunter? A marvelous performance tonight, I must say, better than the one on stage, but now the curtain must descend."

He wrapped her in his cloak and whisked her through the night.

***

 

In the castle, Lucard let her go, and she fell to the floor, dark hair released and tumbling all around her. He watched her rise and face him, expecting to see fear and trepidation in the blue of her eyes, but they merely took in her surroundings, eventually turning to him evenly. She wore dark velvet, smooth and rich, low cut, leaving her arms bare and clinging to her curves, to her breasts rising and falling with each breath. He had to admit she looked splendid, no longer the adolescent girl budding into womanhood, and -- he breathed in her scent -- no longer a virgin. More's the pity, but he supposed it was inevitable.

"Pardon me, my dear, I have been most remiss. I haven't complimented you on how absolutely ravishing you look tonight." He bowed.

"You're a fool if you think Lewis won't come for me. It's just a matter of time."

He removed his cape and gloves, ringing the bell for his new butler to come. "He can certainly try. Wine? Or perhaps you prefer champagne? I quite agree. Champagne it is." The new servant entered and Lucard swiftly gave the order, not waiting for Sophie to answer.

He watched Sophie walk around the room, touching the knight's armor and then twinkling the keys of the piano, trilling quickly through a musical scale, a faintly distant look on her face.

"Remembering?" he asked.

She cut him a swift look, but didn't answer, pulling her hands back as if the piano keys burned her fingertips. "So, you have me here. What are you going to do with me? Ask me three riddles and guess my name? Do I get to melt your cold heart?"

Ah, brava. Yes, this was the Sophie he remembered. He smiled. "Puccini at his best, if you want my opinion. Although sadly butchered by that toad tonight attempting to pass as a tenor." He moved closer, keeping Sophie between him and the piano. He touched her collarbone, skin warm like a song.

"He wasn't so bad as all that." She moved back, pressing the keys on the piano. "He has more passion than you."

He lifted an eyebrow, raising his other hand and passing it through her hair. "Tut, tut, my dear. No need for insults."

"Stop it." She jerked her head away. "And it wasn't an insult, only the truth. You're a vampire, you only know how to destroy. You don't know what it means to create, to be artistic."

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you still play, Sophie?"

The change in topic startled her. "What?"

"The piano. Sit." He pushed her down -- firm but gentle, fingers caressing her skin -- onto the piano seat.

"I..." She fell silent, her eyes wide, her fingers resting on the keys. "I don't play as much as I used to. Piano was never my main instrument."

"But you did play. Play for me." He didn't say again, but the energy of the word lingered. Play for me again. She stared at him for a long time before turning to face the piano, tentatively at first, hesitant, but gained confidence and soon he recognized the tune. A nocturne; how appropriate. She stumbled when he touched her shoulders, brushing her hair to one side, exposing her neck, but she played on. He could feel her heat, the beat of her heart, and soon she played like she did years ago, when she had come to him, queen of the night. He sat next to her, facing her so he could see her eyes, watch her face.

"You do remember. Do you wonder what it would have been like if you'd stayed with me?"

She didn't stop, shifting to a different nocturne. "Sometimes," she said, softly, almost under the music.

Her eyes darkened, mouth falling open. He leaned in until his lips brushed against the pulse at her neck. She vibrated with the music and he had to feel her, one hand trailing down the pale skin of her arm, bringing a cascade of goose flesh, careful not to disrupt her playing. He couldn't stop himself, not wanting to stop, lips against her ear, breathing in her scent.

Sophie stopped abruptly, fingers still hovering over the keys of the piano. She stared at her hands, not looking at him. "How did you do that? How did you make me play like that? I never could. I'd try and try, but it was never there." Her eyes shifted to his.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "I didn't do anything. That was you." He took her hands in both of his.

"But, I can feel you. How can that be?"

He tilted his head to one side. "What you feel is some of my energy, but the talent lies in you. I merely... pushed you, a little bit. Tell me, Sophie, what have you been doing since you left?"

She turned away, sliding off the bench from the other side. She walked over to one of the windows, her back to him. "I was at University, studying international policy and diplomacy. That's where I met Lewis. He already knew about vampires because of his mother, was already a hunter." She turned to look at him and shrugged. "It was familiar, and after Uncle Gustav died..."

He could not take credit for the old man's death -- that lay with Nosferatu. Lucard had tried to stop him, if only because Helsing deserved better. The Elmhurst woman, however, had been his doing -- she had tricked him and he had not been in a forgiving mood.

Lucard studied Sophie, seeing the tense line of her shoulders, how her eyes dimmed, admiring how she hid her agitation. Following, he moved to stand beside her. "I admit I'm surprised. You were always so passionate about music and the arts. Why? What made you change your mind?"

Her gaze became unfocused, falling to the glass planes of the window. "Have you ever wanted something, so badly, so completely, that when you finally have it, you find it wasn't what you wanted to begin with? I was never very good, anyway."

"If vampires lack passion, then mortals lack sense. I don't believe you." He turned her around, grabbing her, making her look at him. "I have lived a long time, Sophie, and rarely have I seen someone with talent like yours. I forbid you to throw it away. Come with me. I will show you the world, show you what you really can be."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't. I can't."

"Yes, you can." He crushed her to him, seeking the warmth of her neck. "Sophie," he said, muffled. She shook in his arms, but her hands reached up and touched his face, his neck. He kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "Come with me," he asked again. "I will cherish you forever."

"Oh God, yes," she said, her lips seeking his, burning him with her heat. She opened for him and he took what she offered, sweetness and youth. He bit at her lips, just shy of gentle, and she took his head in her hands, demanding more. Kisses, filled with blood and lust, and even passion. He could feel her passion that fed him, burning through every fiber of his body. It had been too long since he'd felt like this. He slid his lips down the curve of her neck, her fingers in his hair. One strap of her dress fell and he pulled it down, exposing more flesh.

She caught her breath when he kissed the exposed swell of her breast above the line of her gown, and Lucard felt a surge of blood lust pulse through him. He could drown in her energy, feed on it for years, decades, as long as it took. Sophie, beautiful Sophie, his queen. How many moments passed? Minutes or hours, he couldn't be certain. Lucard could feel the dawn approaching and he reached for her; he kept a room for moments like these, with a bed and pillows and other human necessities. A more suitable setting, where he could admire her beauty in perfect lighting. He took her hand, and all the warning he received was a sudden shift of her eyes. Turning, fangs already bared, he cried out and staggered back when a garlic necklace was flung over his head. "You."

Elmhurst, his face angry and bruised, stood next to Chris and Maximilian, all three holding crosses. Lucard raised an arm, to ward off the burning intensity of the symbol of the Son of God, falling weakly to the floor. He looked up at Sophie, horror and shock on her face, a hand over her mouth, breathing hard, skin glowing in the candlelight and he felt a sudden admiring pride. Ah, yes, he should have known not to underestimate her. A marvelous plan, brilliant, to distract him so. It must have been her idea, his brave Sophie.

Lucard sneered at all of them. "Ah, the Three Stooges. Slightly different, but still as effective, I see."

"That's right, Lucard. Finally, your end is near." Elmhurst shouted, raising a stake over his head. A trifle unstable, that boy.

"You can't get away this time, Lucard, we have you," said Maximilian, still the young upstart.

Chris, Lucard noticed, was looking at Sophie. "What did you do to her?" Sophie clutched her dress, righting the strap.

"Nothing. She could have left at any time. She was here of her own free will." It was true. He would not have hurt her. All pairs of eyes turned to Sophie, who kept looking at Lucard, remaining silent. She must have known he would grab her at the opera, that he could never have resisted -- planned for it. She really was very clever, everything timed almost to perfection. But he would never have taken her by force; he didn't need to. He looked into her eyes and saw that she had known that, too.

"That's a likely story. You're a vampire. Say good-bye, Lucard." Elmhurst raised the stake higher, taking a big breath. Lucard didn't look away, baring his teeth, hissing. He really did not care for Elmhurst, at all.

"Stop! Don't kill him."

Elmhurst stopped, stake only a foot from Lucard's chest. "What?" cried all three together, openly gaping at Sophie. Lucard smiled.

"You can't kill him. Don't you know anything? This is his home. You can't kill him here."

The three stooges all looked at each other, bewildered.

"Uncle Gustav said so, otherwise he would have done it long ago. You can inter him, lock him in his crypt, if you can find it, but that's all you can do. Or you can get him off the castle grounds. Either one."

Lucard kept silent, waiting to see what they decided. Elmhurst turned, angrily kicking the armor stand. It crashed and banged to the ground, falling to pieces, ringing metal on stone, reverberating.

Max turned to his brother. "Do you remember that?"

Chris shrugged. "Ever known Sophie to be wrong?"

"Good point. Lewis, we better find the crypt. Come on."

Lewis turned. "What about him?" He gestured at Lucard.

Sophie spoke again. "He's harmless. I'll stay with him. Go. If we're going to lock him in his crypt, you have to do it before morning. We don't have a lot of time."

Lewis hesitated, but then nodded, and all three of the boys departed. Silence stretched for several minutes. Lucard watched Sophie, standing next to him, her face turned away. "Your performance deserves a medal, my dear."

Her blue eyes met his. "You think so. Which one?" She knelt beside him and threw the garlic necklace away.

Instantly he felt his strength returning. He grabbed her, kissing her neck. "Everything. All of it." He kissed her again, rising with her in his arms. He wanted her, all of her; she wouldn't leave him again.

Her blue eyes fluttered close with each kiss and she bared her neck. He prepared to bite. At the last moment she pulled out a small cross she had hidden, tears falling down her face.

"Sophie," he said, dropping her, arm rising again to block the cross from his view. He laughed. "You are a marvel. Come with me, Sophie. You and I, together, forever. We will be magnificent!"

"You'd better go. They'll be back any minute," she said, through tears.

"I won't leave you."

She wiped her eyes. "Then you die."

He hesitated, hearing rapid footfalls returning. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, damn it. Go."

"On one condition." He took a step toward her. She lowered the cross. He touched her face, a finger resting at the base of her neck. She was so lovely, so perfect. "Return to your music, Sophie. Return to who you are. And I will go."

She gasped, taking his hand in hers, bringing it to her cheek. "Yes." She closed her eyes. He kissed her, lightly on her full, beautiful lips. Then, he stepped back and spun into a bat, just as the doors to the room flew open.

***

 

He flew to his office building, onto the roof. The sun was still hidden, showing only a thin line of gray touching the horizon, his strength beginning to dampen. Looking over the dark patches of the city, he could see the castle in the distance, could feel her location like an unerring point of light, her scent still on his skin.

He closed his eyes, smiling, then laughing. Such bumbling fools, they would never learn how much smarter he was than they. Except for her. She would be his, that much was certain. She would tell Lucard all their secrets, their movements, their little ham-fisted plans. They would never suspect. Perfect.

A yellow glare from the sun peeked over the skyline, and he turned to leave, stopping briefly to look back in her direction, a hand over his chest.

Sophie, come to me tonight.

Distantly he felt her resistance, and he smiled. He knew she would be there.

***

 

the end.


End file.
